


we can share our secrets till they swallow one another

by voxofthevoid



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dominance and Submission, First Time Bottoming, Kink Exploration, Light Praise Kink, M/M, Mild Feminization, Mild Verbal Humiliation, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: “You can put it in me, if you want. It’ll be just like doing it with a girl.”The moment the last word leaves his mouth, Bucky wants to take it back. Not the whole thing. First part’s just fine. He’s made his peace with the fact that he’s as queer as they come, and only way Steve won’t have figured out as much if he slept right through the past few months’ worth of handjobs and suckjobs, which is unlikely given how many hairs he’s pulled out and all the bruises he’s given Bucky.It's the second part that he wants to swallow right back. The girl part.Sure enough, Steve says, “I don’t know what’s going on in that tin-can you call a brain, Buck, but I’m not here making time with you while secretly imagining you’re a girl. If I put it in you, and I want to, don’t get me wrong, it’d be because it’s you, not as, as practice or whatever shit.”“I know,” Bucky mumbles, lowering his eyes, staring intently at Steve’s collarbone. “I know that, Steve, Jesus.”“Then,” Steve says, and Bucky squeezes his eyes shut so hard that they ache, “do you want me to? Imagine you’re a girl, I mean.”-Two Brooklyn boys navigating kink.





	we can share our secrets till they swallow one another

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t really set out to write this. It was one of those ideas that popped up suddenly and wouldn’t leave me be until I got it out. 
> 
> I’ve got a [tumblr here,](https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/) feel free to come say hi.

“You can put it in me, if you want. It’ll be just like doing it with a girl.”

The moment the last word leaves his mouth, Bucky wants to take it back. Not the whole thing. First part’s just fine. He’s made his peace with the fact that he’s as queer as they come, and only way Steve won’t have figured out as much if he slept right through the past few months’ worth of handjobs and suckjobs, which is unlikely given how many hairs he’s pulled out and all the bruises he’s given Bucky.

It's the second part that he wants to swallow right back. The girl part.

Sure enough, Steve says–

“I don’t know what’s going on in that tin-can you call a brain, Buck–” And it’s unfair, how his voice can still surprise Bucky, even though he was there when it strained and wobbled and broke, settling into something deep and gut-wrenching. It’s worse, like this, Steve’s mouth swollen and voice hoarse from what they’ve been doing. Goes right to Bucky’s cock, fucks him up so bad. “–but I’m not here making time with you while secretly imagining you’re a girl. If I put it in you, and I want to, don’t get me wrong, it’d be because it’s you, not as, as practice or whatever shit.”

“I know,” Bucky mumbles, lowering his eyes, staring intently at Steve’s collarbone. “I know that, Steve, Jesus.”

“Do you?” Steve asks, a dog with a bone at the best of times.

“ _Yes_.”

“Hm,” Steve says and sits up so he’s straddling Bucky rather than sprawled atop him. His bony ass settles a fucking inch away from Bucky’s dick, hard in his pants, and he’s tempted, for a moment, to just grab Steve’s hips and throw them both into something that will leave them panting and flushed and sated, something _familiar_ and far away from the conversation he can feel brewing in the air.

But that’s just the thing. Steve’s got that look in his eyes which says they’re gonna talk, not fuck, and Bucky can strip naked and crawl on his knees and still not get him to budge. It’s an attractive quality in a man as far as Bucky’s concerned, but damn him if it can’t be a right pain sometimes.

“Then,” Steve says, and Bucky squeezes his eyes shut so hard that they ache, “do you want me to? Imagine you’re a girl, I mean.”

This, this is why Bucky should just keep his flap sewed shut.

“Bucky,” Steve says, calmly but with a demand threaded in. “Answer me.”

“No,” Bucky says, still not opening his eyes. It comes out weak, more breath than word; flimsy.

“Huh. Hey, look at me. Buck, Bucky, c’mon, pal, it’s me.”

 _That’s the problem_ , Bucky doesn’t say. _It’s you_.

But he opens his eyes. Stares at that spot between Steve’s eyebrows like that will stave off this disaster.

“Let’s try that again,” Steve says. There’s no anger in his voice. No disgust. Would be easier. Bucky could scream at him then, maybe, be angry in turn, except that he likely won’t. He’d just be a miserable lump of want and need.

Might as well be honest. Might as well get it over with.

“Yeah. Yeah, I want it.”

“Okay.”

Bucky’s startled into meeting Steve’s eyes.

They’re a piercing blue, more familiar to Bucky than his own eyes sometimes, and they’re looking at him the way they usually do, fond and trying not to show it, but not trying all that hard because Steve doesn’t mind if Bucky knows it.

“But–”

Steve waits a moment, expectant. But that’s all Bucky’s got, throat thick around the words he might say. Steve seems to realize, after several increasingly awkward seconds, that that’s all he’s gonna get out of Bucky.

“Okay,” he says with a little nod, like that settles something. “You wanna be my girl, Buck?”

Oh, sweet mother Mary–

Bucky makes a noise. Soft and despairing, nothing like the interested twitch of his dick.

Steve doesn’t make him suffer much longer. Swoops down and takes a kiss, lips and tongue insistent against Bucky’s, prying his mouth open and slipping right in, kissing him deep and dirty.

Bucky’s panting when Steve pulls back, chest heaving like he’s been shifting boxes at the docks all day. Steve thumbs his lower lip, smearing their shared spit along Bucky’s chin.

“Look at that,” Steve says, low and pleased in a way that spells trouble. “Don’t need paint to make your lips all red, do you, doll? Just this.”

Bucky shudders all over. Nods, a moment later, because there’s a bright, expectant glint in Steve’s eyes, and Bucky never could stand to disappoint him.

Steve grins, sharp but still somehow sweet, and kisses him again, only this time he doesn’t stop kissing until Bucky’s whining into his mouth and pawing at his half-buttoned shirt, and then he just bites along Bucky’s jaw and down his throat. Teasing nips turn into sucking kisses, and Bucky’s arching his neck before he knows it, panting through the biting pain of blooming bruises.

Steve laves his tongue over Bucky’s collarbone, then bites down hard, grinning into the skin when Bucky cries out. He mouths his way back up, after, pausing to suck a mark right under Bucky’s chin, where there will be no hiding it no matter how high he buttons his collar.

“Aw,” Steve says unrepentantly as he pulls back to survey his handiwork. “That’s gonna show. Gotta be careful, don’t we? Can’t have those boys thinking you’re some good-time girl.”

Steve kisses Bucky’s high-pitched whine right off his lips.

“But it’s fine,” he murmurs between the hungry press of lips. “I trust you, doll. You can keep your legs closed, can’t you?”

“ _Fuck_.” It’s not a shout, but only because they have neighbors, and there’s a limit to what they’ll tolerate. “ _Steve_.”

Steve pulls back, a faint frown on his face. Concern, not irritation.

“You okay?” he asks. Then, softer, “This okay?”

Bucky almost hurts his neck nodding, frantic and damn near desperate.

Steve’s smile starts out slow and widens into something that sets fireworks off in Bucky’s belly. Then they’re kissing, again, and Bucky doesn’t think they’ve ever kissed so much after they’ve decided to get into the down and dirty of it, but it’s nice, feels nice, and then he thinks – this is what he used to do, back when he did more than just kiss his dates with closed lips and see them home. He kissed them, went real slow, hands creeping up thighs and palms pressing light over blouses, making them feel good without going too fast and scaring them away.

This is how Bucky used to treat his girls, and Steve knows it because Bucky told him, and it’s coming back to bite him in the ass, now, but Bucky can’t bring himself to mind. How can he, when Steve’s kissing him so sweet and right, and slowly stretching his body back over Bucky’s, making him feel pinned down and held even though he can throw Steve off with a flex of his hips.

Bucky sinks into the sheets, sinks into the kiss. Lets Steve tug his shirt open all slow and slide two tentative fingers into his waistband.

“Can I?” Steve asks, tugging at Bucky’s pants, tone soft and coaxing like nothing Bucky’s ever heard from him.

Bucky nods, wide-eyed.

Steve’s silent when he strips them both; himself first, without the self-conscious glances he shot Bucky the first time they got naked together with purpose. And then Bucky, but Steve’s more careful with him, almost gentle as he peels the shirt off Bucky’s sweaty back and works his pants down his legs.

It's hard to hold on to the tentative illusion with Bucky’s dick rock hard and bobbing between his muscled legs and regret settles heavily in his gut. He likes his cock, likes that he’s got one and wouldn’t change it, but he’d have liked to play this role a little longer.

Then Steve settles bodily between Bucky’s spread legs and slides a thumb against the slit of his cock.

“So wet for me,” he says, gravel in his voice and an unholy light in his eyes. “Just from that. Classy dame like you, who’d have thought you’d be so desperate, hm?”

Bucky’s cock fucking gushes another fat drop right into Steve’s waiting thumb. Steve makes a pleased noise and raises his eyes to Bucky. Holds his gaze when he brings his hand up to his mouth and _licks_ the glistening pad of his thumb.

“Next time, you should wear a skirt,” Steve tells him quietly, watching Bucky like a hawk. “Wouldn’t even have to take it off. Let me slip right in. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Bucky makes an embarrassing noise. His cock drools some more.

“You’re going to, aren’t you,” Steve asks in a tone that isn’t really a question at all. “Let me in. You want it. I can tell you do.”

He looks down at Bucky’s cock and grabs his hips with both hands, putting in enough force that Bucky gets the idea and bends his knees, planting his feet on the bed so he can push his hips up. Steve hums in approval and cups Bucky’s balls in one large hand, pulling them out of the way until his hole is exposed to Steve’s hungry gaze.

It drives the air right out of Bucky’s lungs, leaves him breathless and shaky, feeling unbearably vulnerable. But he holds his pose because there’s naked want in Steve’s darkened eyes and because Bucky likes it, the breathtaking intimacy of this.

Steve lets out a breath that shudders through his slight frame.

“You gonna let me put it in you, Buck?” he asks like Bucky didn’t say exactly that before starting this whole mess. “I’ll go slow,” he adds, in a dark little tone that’s not convincing at all but still gets Bucky’s gut clenching. “Wouldn’t want to hurt my girl.”

“ _Please_.”

Bucky realizes only a beat later that he said that. Doesn’t even recognize his voice, the tight wreck it’s become even though Steve’s done nothing but kiss him and talk some filth to him.

 _Desperate_ , Steve called him, and it doesn’t seem wrong, now, with Bucky so worked up from so little.

Steve smiles a slow, sharp grin, eyes finally flicking back up to meet Bucky’s. They take his breath away, pulls a whine out of his chest.

When Steve leans up to kiss him, Bucky helplessly spreads his legs wider.

They have to break apart. Steve goes to get the slick, and Bucky uses that time to arrange himself on his stomach. He shifts around a bit, aware of his ass in a way he’s never been before, and finally lifts himself on to his hands and knees. It makes it _worse_ , makes something knot up all tight and hot in his chest, but it’s not unpleasant, this newfound awareness of his flesh.

He's thinking of reaching back and sliding a hand between his cheeks, just to see, to feel, when footsteps announce Steve’s return.

They stop, for several long seconds, away from the bed, and Bucky almost drops back to his belly with every intention of covering up and rolling into a safe, secure ball. Steve moves before he can, climbing onto the bed with a devastatingly relieving lack of hesitation.

“Thought you’d want to see my face,” Steve says, settling back between Bucky’s legs. “First time and all. Should’ve known better. You just want to get fucked, don’t you? Little whore.”

Bucky freezes, then shudders all over.

It takes him a moment to find his voice, and when he does, his tongue feels heavy and clumsy in his mouth.

“That’s not – it’s not – easier, this is – that’s all, I swear, Steve–”

“Ssh,” Steve says, and Bucky snaps his mouth shut gratefully. “I get it. You’re shy. S’okay, doll. I’ll take good care of you.”

There’s something about those words in Steve’s mouth in that particular tone that makes it sound like both an inviolable promise and the world’s most blatant lie. It goes right to Bucky’s dick anyway and deeper still to some place that gets him clenching around nothing.

He lets out a shuddering breath.

Then Steve’s fingers are brushing his hole, two at a time and greasy with Vaseline, and for a long time, Bucky feels like he’s not breathing at all.

It hurts, and it’s uncomfortable, and he grits his teeth against the gut-deep need to just _push it out of him_ , but he fights to stay still and let it happen. Steve’s talking to him, murmured nonsense that’s dirty and sweet in turn, and there’s something about the wonder in his voice as he marvels over how _tight_ Bucky is that makes him whimper into his arm and try to relax into the intrusion.

There’s no fixed point where it shifts from strange and aching to good and aching, but it does, and then Bucky’s holding his breath for a whole other reason.

Steve does – something – and it’s like someone gave his cock a quick, teasing stroke but not really, and it’s _inside_ of him, and Bucky doesn’t realize he’s moving his hips back into Steve’s fingers until he’s already built up a rhythm.

“Knew you’d be hungry for it,” Steve says from behind him, laughing but sounding a little hungry himself. “My sweet girl.”

By the time Steve pulls his fingers out, Bucky’s feeling raw and open and needy for something big and hot to fill him up.

Steve does. His cockhead’s slick and warm against Bucky’s hole, pressing tentatively at first. It’s always tripped Bucky up, from the first time he looked, _really_ looked, at the thing. Bucky isn’t small, is pretty proportional, he thinks, and the girls he used to make time with sure didn’t complain, but Steve’s dick fits his personality more than his small, wispy body. It drives Bucky a little crazy, and he all but died the first time he got his mouth on it, and it’s a wonder, really, how he managed to hold off so long before asking Steve to fuck him with it.

Not that it matters, the size, because he’d be gone for Steve no matter what he packed between his legs, but it sure doesn’t hurt.

Except, of course, it _does_ , tearing Bucky right in two as it fucks into him.

He screams. Can’t help it. But Steve’s hand slaps hard over his mouth before Bucky can bring the walls down with his caterwauling, and he doesn’t move inside Bucky, still as a statue until Bucky’s muffled yelling settles into high, helpless keening.

Then he takes his hand away, fingers detaching one by one and leaving Bucky’s mouth feeling bruised.

“Buck?” Steve calls softly, the hand that was over his mouth stroking his hair and groping along his shoulders, little fluttery attempts at comfort.

“I’m fine,” Bucky says, wincing at the state of his voice. “Just – gimme time. Stay, just, just stay.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, petting all along Bucky’s back and not moving an inch like he promised.

Bucky gasps for air, feeling like he’s breathing around the impossible fullness inside of him. It’s – it’s a lot, so much that he doesn’t know Steve fit all that inside of him, only that he has because here Bucky is, hanging off a cock that’s searing his insides and – and _liking_ it, pain and all.

He shudders, again, and Steve swears, nails scraping Bucky’s shoulder blade, an accident judging by the soothing stroke that follows.

“Talk to me,” Bucky grits out. “Tell me – tell me I’m–”

That’s all he manages, but Steve, bless him, understands.

“You’re doing so well, doll,” he croons, the strain in his voice almost vanishing under the syrupy sweetness. “All wet and tight around me. Feels so good, Buck.”

And there’s something, in that, in knowing he’s making Steve feel good enough to turn his voice that rough. Bucky takes a deep breath, and he wants to tell Steve to move, but instead, he finds himself moving, hips swaying an inch off Steve’s cock and then pressing back in. It makes sparks burst along his spine, pain and pressure mingling into a strange kind of pleasure.

“Fuck,” Steve rasps, hands flying to grip Bucky’s hips. They dig hard into skin with that surprising strength Steve’s fingers hold. “Bucky. You good?”

Bucky nods, then makes himself say, “Yeah. You can move.”

Steve does.

It’s not the punishing thrusts Bucky half-expects, but then, those would be rough on Steve, too, his heart and his lungs still too delicate for all that he wants to do with them. But he makes Bucky _feel_ it, makes him writhe around the cock splitting him wide as Steve grinds his hips and pulls back for short thrusts.

It doesn’t last, unsurprisingly, but Bucky’s shocked at the heat spilling inside him, wet warmth soaking deep into him. Some of it slips out when Steve softens, and it’s the strangest thing Bucky’s ever felt, the trickle of come that’s not his own down his balls. It makes his own cock twitch, almost back to full hardness after going soft during the penetration.

Steve says nothing, just breathes hard and loud, as he slips a hand underneath Bucky to palm his cock. It fills up painfully at the touch, and Steve knows how to touch him, where to squeeze and where to tease with blunt nails, and the cock still plugging him up, the come still wetting his hole, they all send Bucky spiraling madly into a climax that makes his eyes roll back in his head.

He collapses afterwards, wincing with a faint whimper when Steve slips out of him with a sharp sting. Steve joins him, still panting, and the two inches between their bodies are unbearable for an instant before Steve closes the distance and plasters himself to Bucky’s side.

Bucky wants to turn over onto his back and maybe cuddle up to Steve, but for now, it’s taking him all he has to keep breathing.

“Buck?” Steve asks, sounding as wrecked as Bucky feels. “You okay?”

“Mm,” Bucky manages. “S’good.”

And that’s that, at least until they both catch their breaths and reassemble their brains.

Bucky manages, eventually, to turn around and gather Steve against him. He curls into Steve’s smaller frame, burying his face in his neck and breathing in the scent that’s mostly sweat but wholly _Steve_ in a way that defies description.

Steve holds him loosely, the way he always does, but his fingers are firm where they’re tangled in Bucky’s hair, the way they always are.

 

-

 

“It’s not like that,” Bucky says much later, voice thick from sleep and muffled shouts.

“Not like what, Buck?” Steve asks predictably.

“I don’t want to be a dame,” Bucky tells him, a note of urgency making itself heard despite his best efforts. It’s important, though, and he needs Steve to know. “It’s not like the girls at the bar. That bar. I’m a guy, I like being a guy, it’s just, sometimes…”

He trails off a little helplessly, running out of steam. It isn’t like Bucky to not have the words. He’s usually got too much of them, according to Steve, but he hasn’t thought about this before, not like this. Has thought of Steve calling him – things, the things he called him, earlier, and more, worse, but not about this, about explaining it. But he has to. Wants to.

“You want to pretend,” Steve says, and it’s not quite a question. His eyes are very blue and very wide, free of judgement and full of interest. Typical, then, of the way he looks at Bucky.

“Yes,” Bucky says, smiling and grateful. “Exactly.”

“Alright,” Steve says, smiling back at Bucky, a shy curl of lips. “You can be my good girl, Buck.”

They don’t know, then, either of them, that those words will follow them through two more years in the familiar embrace of Brooklyn and to war and beyond, whispered like question and benediction in muddy forests and snowy mountains, and again in another lifetime, a note of familiarity among two men who’re lovers and strangers.

They don’t need to know, now, when Bucky’s flushed and grinning, and Steve’s staring at him like he has the universe right there at his fingertips.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
